


Pinky Promise

by Setkia



Series: Pinky Swear [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:58:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: “I think we should get married.”Hajime chokes on his water because it has to be the strangest thing in the world when you realize that you and your best friend since birth have the exact same thought at the same time. “What?” he says all the same.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Pinky Swear, and I don't own Haikyūu. Now here's the thing: you don't have to read Pinky Swear to read this story, because they both tell the same story, but by different people's points of view. I hope you guys like it! It took a while since I wanted their voices to be different (for instance, whereas Tōru keeps calling him Hajime in his head, Hajime forces himself to call Tōru "Oikawa" in his head) but I think it went well. Thanks for reading!

Iwaizumi Hajime is six when it starts for him.

That’s the year Tōru decides he wants to give sports a try. As a relatively short child, basketball is out of the question. Without much running strength, so is baseball. Soccer can’t work because Tōru thinks men’s soccer is the most pathetic thing he’s ever seen (Hajime has to agree, he remembers seeing a girl with a bleeding head go back onto the field whereas a man got kicked in the shin and fell into a heap of pain) and tennis is just … _weird_. So volleyball it is.

And since Tōru and Hajime have always done everything together, it just makes sense that they’ll play volleyball together. To be honest, Hajime likes looking for bugs more, and he knows Tōru doesn’t hate it (because Tōru lets you know when he doesn’t like something, and he seems to get a kick out of watching ants burn underneath a magnifying glass) but still, the look in Tōru’s eyes when he watches someone jump serve for the first time … perhaps that’s when he realizes it.

But of course, he can’t say anything because he’s six, what does he know about that weird feeling in his stomach?

It doesn’t really change anything, Hajime plays with Tōru and has fun hanging out with him and they get better together and then one day it just happens.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you gonna guess?”

Hajime rolls his eyes. “It’ll save us both time and effort if we just admit right now I’m not a mind reader and you should just tell me what you’re thinking.”

Tōru pouts. “Buzzkill,” he whines. Hajime rolls his eyes, but if he’s being honest with himself it’s just for the effect. Tōru looks so happy, staring up at the sky, smashing his feet against each other as he lays back in the grass that an insane idea pops into Hajime’s mind. “I think we should get married.”

Hajime chokes on his water because it has to be the strangest thing in the world when you realize that you and your best friend since birth have the exact same thought at the same time. “ _What_?” he says all the same.

_Is he thinking what I’m thinking?_

“Well, Nee-chan has a boyfriend, and everyone thinks they’ll be getting married and if I’m gonna marry anyone I want it to be you,” says Tōru as though it’s the easiest thing in the world and part of Hajime thinks it is when another thing occurs to him.

“But we’re both guys.”

“Does that matter?”

Hajime blinks. _Does it?_ “I ... I think it does.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“What if I don't want to marry you?” asks Hajime because he’s just playing his role of having to be the most disagreeable out of the two of them.

Tōru pauses. “Then … We don’t get married.” He looks a bit sad at that. “Ooh! I know! What about if we're single by the time we're thirty-five, we get married?”

Hajime tilts his head.

This has been a weird day. First, he goes to practice some serves, catch a worm perhaps and maybe look for starships and then he and Tōru are on the same wavelength for some odd reason. Is this some sort of thing from one of those bad sci-fi movies Tōru makes him watch?

“Okay, sure. If we're not in a relationship by the time we're thirty-five, we'll get married to each other.”

They pinky swear it, which is a huge deal, so it's basically written in stone now.

Hajime wonders if this is an invasion of the body snatchers or something.

 

  
When they’re fourteen it dawns on Hajime just what he’s feeling and even worse, other people feel it too towards Tōru. No, _Oikawa_. He can’t call him Tōru, that’s too personal. He’s the one who made them switch to last names and yet somehow it’s even worse because while “Hajime” makes him feel all kinds of weird warm feelings, “Iwa-chan” is somehow not as annoying as he pretends it is.

Fourteen is also the first year they’re not in the same class. There are countless times Hajime turns a corner to find Tōr— _Oikawa_ talking to a girl.

He can’t watch, so instead he calls to him.

“Oi, Asskawa!” It’s juvenile, he knows it is, but at the same time if Tō— _Oikawa’s_ going to call him Iwa-chan, he’s going to take every opportunity he can get letting him know what trash he is. Besides, he looks relieved to be given an excuse to leave the girl.

“What did she want?” asks Hajime, even though he knows the answer.

“She said she liked me,” Oikawa says with a shrug. Hajime gives himself a mental pat on the back for not screwing up this time.

“Eh?” he says, playing dumb.

“Yeah, I didn't really get it either.”

Hajime rolls his eyes. “Of course she likes you.”

 _Shit_. Whilst one part of his brain is panicking that he’s said too much, another domain find the new world of swearing exciting. He’s ready to explore it, rather than linger on his fuck up. If Ma heard him, he’d definitely be washing his mouth out.

“What do you mean of course?”

Hajime tries to think fast. What can he say that sounds like an insult but is still true? It’s surprisingly hard to insult Tōru— _shit_ , he’s fallen back into calling him Tōru again. It’s surprisingly hard to insult _Oikawa_ (Hajime cheers internally). It’s not because he’s not annoying. He is, but Hajime’s gotten so used to it he barely even notices these small parts of Oikawa that make him one of the most twisted people Hajime knows (in retrospect he should’ve known when he realized Tōru’s adoration for watching little insects burn).

“You’re warped but you’ve got a pretty face.” Shit. Did his voice just crack? It did, didn’t it? He’ll just pretend that didn’t happen.

“Does Iwa-chan like my face?”

“Shut up, Trashkawa.”

Hajime’s so glad Oikawa looks the other way because his face must be on fire.

 

  
Hajime feels bad when he and Oikawa sign up for Aobajōsai’s volleyball team.

He should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa.

Oikawa tried to hide it but Hajime saw the acceptance letter.

_He’s here because of me._

Oikawa is an amazing player. He won the Best Setter award, he’s considered a prodigy. Why is he holding himself back? But Hajime knows the truth. It’s _him_ who’s holding him back. Because he wants to stay with him. Because Oikawa doesn’t refuse.

 

  
It's while Hajime's trying to do his algebra homework and Oikawa is lying on his bed, playing with a volleyball that Hajime learns the true meaning of teenage angst.

“Hey Iwa-chan, remember Meg-chan?”

Hajime takes a much needed break from trying to find x, and instead tries to create a mental image in his mind of Megumi Aoi, the short-haired captain of the girl's volleyball team.

“What about her?”

“Her and I are dating.”

Hajime doesn't mean to sound over-dramatic but the moment the lead in his pencil breaks, he's pretty sure the same thing's happened to his chest, around the heart area.

“Just thought you should know.”

Hajime grips his pencil tighter. He says it so casually, and of course he should say it casually, it's a normal thing to say, that Oikawa hasn't had a girlfriend before this is abnormal and this is just him conforming to everyone's expectations. They're the perfect match, two dedicated volleyball captains with great looks. There’s a part of him that’s disappointed though, because Oikawa has never conformed to the image others thrust upon him.

He’s pretty, so he must be an idiot. He and Iwaizumi are in college prep courses.

He’s an athlete, he must be buff. Oikawa is fit, but nowhere close to a muscle-man.

He’s got a nice face and voice, he must have a wonderful personality. Oikawa is twisted more than a pretzel, and a thousand times more disturbing.

He's smooth, he must be a heartbreaker. Megumi-san is his first girlfriend.

It was going to happen eventually, Hajime reminds himself.

It doesn't hurt any less.

But Oikawa doesn't bring it up again, mentions it like the weather and rather than cancel plans to spend more time with her (as Hajime inevitable expects of him), he cancels on her so he can practice this awesome new attack the two of them have been working on.

It makes him feel special. He can't help it. He knows he shouldn't, he's not doing this to be with Hajime, he's doing this to become better, to beat Kageyama. But still, when he tosses to him, with that look in his eye, like this one is a special toss, one just for him, he feels it anyway.

 

  
It's when Hajime has just placed his bento in front of him for lunch that Oikawa sits down next to him with a mark on his cheek to bring colour back to Hajime's world.

“We're over.”

Hajime can't help but grin like an idiot. He even lets Oikawa take his milk bread.

 

  
The most heartbreaking thing Hajime has ever seen is Oikawa Tōru, face covered in sweat, skin burning, palms red, tossing up yet again for another jump serve.

He’s been watching for a few minutes, has seen the way Oikawa pushes himself, falls over and starts again. The way he keeps slamming that ball into the wall, surely leaving a dent.

Mid-jump, Hajime makes his presence known.

He knows Oikawa doesn’t want to talk, so he doesn’t say a thing. Instead, he picks up the ball that rolls his way and throws it back to Oikawa. No, _Tōru_. In this instance, in this moment, he can call him Tōru. He’ll let himself be self-indulgent just this once.

Silently, he asks for a toss.

There are reasons for it. Why they go for hours without speaking, the only sounds to be heard the slam of the ball, the squeaky shoes against the gym floor and heavy breathing that comes out in sync, like they’re one.

He can say it’s because Oikawa Tōru is the captain and as his vice and ace, it’s his job to make sure he gets everything out, is picked up when he falls. He can claim it’s because he needs the extra practice. He can proclaim that it’s because it’s fun (volleyball has become fun to him now, but perhaps that’s because now when they talk about Tōru, they talk about him too, they call him “Oikawa’s ace”. And he feels as though he has some ownership over him which he knows is sick and wrong). He can say it's because Tōru’s his best friend and it’s part of the best friends since childhood contract to support each other.

But when Tōru falls and his legs give out from under him and Hajime begins to collect the balls that have been scattered around the large gymnasium, heart beating fast, sweat dripping down his forehead, muscles aching, and ready to go again at the slightest notice, he admits it to himself.

He’s doing it for _them_.

Yes, it’s for Tōru, he tells him so, but he’s not so pure-hearted that his reasons aren’t entirely selfless. He’s always thought Tōru was the selfish one, but now he realizes Hajime may be the tyrant.

He’s made Tōru call him “Iwaizumi-kun” (more accurately, “Iwa-chan”) so he didn’t have to deal with hearing his first name from his lips. He’s made him go to Aobajōsai instead of Shiratorizawa because they need to stay together. And he’s playing with him now because they haven’t practiced one-on-one, so raw, so freely, in forever and he misses it. He misses it so much, he aches.

“Wanna go again?”

It’s not much, but it’s the best he can do, because he’s not affectionate like Tōru. He doesn’t make as big of a deal of their friendship as the setter does, but he hopes Tōru knows Hajime appreciates their friendship. He wonders if the alien nerd is as grateful he knows him as he is knowing Tōru.

Because casual touches and smiles don’t come naturally to him, he offers what he can. His time. His attention.

Himself.

_I’m here. I’m always here._

Tōru opens his mouth, and there’s this look in his eyes, like he wants to say something but then something dark takes over his gaze. Hajime blinks and it’s gone and then he’s smiling, as if the idiot doesn’t know Hajime sees right thorough his bullshit.

“No, I’m all good now.”

Hajime nods.

He doesn’t believe him.

He knows Tōru knows that he doesn’t believe him.

_I guess the message hasn’t gotten to you yet._

 

  
It’s weird not hearing Oikawa knock on his door to wake him up every morning.

Hajime never knew how much he depended on their strange morning routine and now the days just kind of go by the same way the sun shines, expected, anticipated, but nothing worth remembering.

He has to bite his tongue when he does see Oikawa because otherwise he’ll ask him how he’s been and he’ll be asked as well and then he’ll start talking about how much he misses him when clearly Oikawa isn’t like that. He’s sure he’s got a pretty girlfriend by now.

It’s kind of like when Oikawa got his first girlfriend (who broke it off because he was too “obsessed”). Like he’s in the background, and his world’s lost its colour. It’s like knowing saturation and having it disappear. It feels empty.

Lifeless.

And it hurts. It hurts a lot.

They need to move in together after university because Hajime’s not sure how much longer he can survive through this separation.

 

  
Hajime doesn't know how Oikawa turned away girls in high school.

A girl is standing in front of him, cheeks flushed, looking all nervous and yet he can't find the words to reject her.

It's not because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings.

It's not because she's tugged at his heartstrings or he's sentimental since this is his first time receiving a confession.

It's not even because she's pretty, or that she's in charge of that one study group that actually _works_ during study hall.

It's because of her name.

Tohru.

Tohru Misaki.

He wishes he could say he chose his first girlfriend is because of an honest connection, because of heartfelt words and shared sentiments. He wants to tell you that it's because she's pretty and he's over him and he's tired of waiting and thinks he can grow to love her.

In the end the truth is because she shares the name of the one he cannot have.

Hajime doesn't know when he became such a horrible person.

 

  
On their first date she goes in for a kiss and Hajime pulls away.

She thinks it's cute, that he's shy.

He knows the truth.

They go to see some movie, some rom-com. The only thing he can think of is how Oikawa would cling to him and use his sleeve as a tissue as he blubbers over the cheesiest plot-line, only to tell him as the credits roll that the story wasn't all that touching and it would've been much better if there had been an alien invasion.

He barely holds her hand and she thinks it's because he's uncomfortable, nervous on a first date and he wishes it was that because it would hurt so much less that way.

When he drops her off, she tells him she enjoyed it. He searches his brain for a good response, an appropriate response and instead just grunts.

She invites him in. He turns her down.

When the door closes and he walks back to his dorm, he slides open his phone and dials Oikawa's number. He stares at the digits, at his stupid picture and can't help the first genuine smile of the night slipping out. Then he thinks of what he must be doing, hanging out with some girl at a study group, maybe making out in the back of the library and his expression turns sour.

He shuts his phone. He feels robbed of that satisfaction that comes from slamming a flip-phone shut.

He grits his teeth and reminds himself for the thousandth time he's not even allowed to have such thoughts. Because _he's_ the weird one and Oikawa is probably enjoying his university life without Hajime to hinder him.

Hajime may cry just a little bit on the way back, but it's dark and it's not like anyone can see except the stars.

 

  
He holds them close and feels the slope of their neck, can feel their eyelashes on his face. Their fingers are a little too smooth, their hand just a little too gentle. Their hair is just a bit too long, they’re just a bit too short.

And then Hajime presses his forehead against theirs, his eyes closed and he reminds himself it makes sense.

Of course their fingers are smooth, they haven't been worked over through years of rigorous training, their hands are gentle because there's no need to spike so harshly. Of course their hair is long, they don't need to keep it wavy and short and curling a bit near the ears. Of course they're shorter than him because no girl stands at six feet.

He feels guilty. He doesn’t look at her for a long time.

He should tell her.

But he's allowed to say _his_ name this way so he keeps quiet.

 

  
It's so much easier to hide behind a lie, Hajime finds. It's easier to convince himself he actually loves her. And then he goes to Oikawa's twentieth birthday party and everything shatters.

How is he even living with her? How is he still breathing without _him_? How has he never realized that his eyes light up when he talks about aliens under the right lighting? How could he forget the way he smiles? How did he resist him with flushed cheeks, slightly tipsy?

When his girlfriend calls him, he looks at Oikawa who tells him to answer because he should but Hajime doesn't want to because something was going to happen, they were both leaning so close, they were both going to—

No.

Oikawa isn't like that.

Hajime is the only one who's this disgusting.

He hates himself some days.

When he answers, he snaps a bit, as if she's interrupted something. There's nothing to interrupt. Nothing is going to change, nothing would've changed if anything had happened, Hajime would still be standing with a broken heart, Oikawa would just tear it more the farther he would back away as the true meaning behind all the “punches" Hajime gives him dawn on him.

He'd be disgusted.

It's a good thing she interrupted.

He tells himself this over and over again and yet he can't make himself believe it.

When he comes back into the bar, Oikawa is talking to the bartender who's looking at him in a way Hajime wishes he could. So open, so honest with interest.

Because he has nothing to lose.

Part of Hajime wishes he wasn't a coward, wishes he was able to do it too, wishes he could pull Oikawa aside and kiss him against the wall and for it to be okay because he can imagine the way he would bend underneath him, curl into his body.

If he thinks long and hard enough, he can almost feel his heat, the sensation of his callused hands on him. The texture of his hand beneath his fingers, the sounds he’d make. He’d treat him so good, if he only got the chance, just one. He’s imagined it in so many ways. He’s dreamt of those eyes, brimming with emotion he can’t show anyone but him, haunting him in the dark and the highest of highs that follow when he says the words he wants to hear so badly, he can taste them on his tongue.

The image of disgust in those chocolate irises is more vivid than anything, with venom on his tongue and laughter that chips away at his already weak chest cavity.

And yet though he knows the stakes as he watches the bartender flirt with Oikawa none the wiser, a treacherous what if enters his mind.

Hajime hates his mind sometimes.

 

  
Hajime did not think living together through.

When he's twenty-seven, Oikawa comes stumbling through the front door with a girl on his shoulder. They trip and giggle and he watches them disappear into Oikawa's room.

He tells himself he didn't cry that night.

He watches her leave the next morning, up before Oikawa. She's pretty. She's the girl your parents want you to marry. At least Oikawa's doing what others want of him. At least he's normal.

“You his roommate?” she asks and he nods. “He's kinda stupid, but he's fun. Give him my number.” She slides him a slip of paper over the table. He stares at it blankly.

She walks out.

Hajime stares at the cursive digits.

This is what Oikawa is. He's a man who wants women, he's _normal_. He should call her back, she looks like a nice girl. He should probably date her, maybe marry her and have a bunch of children with her and eventually grow old and die with her.

He should have that. He _deserves_ that.

Hajime has never set a match faster before.

When Oikawa stumbles into the kitchen with a headache and hangover, Hajime hands him the pills and stomps on the burnt pieces of paper under his foot before sliding them underneath the table.

Later that day Hajime flushes the burnt crisps down the toilet, just to make sure they're extra gone.

This isn't sabotage, it’s time. More time with Oikawa before the inevitable.

Hajime throws up in the toilet while Oikawa's out.

It's almost as if he's the one with the hangover.

 

  
Hajime is wrong.

The most heartbreaking thing he's ever seen is not Oikawa— _Tōru_ overworking himself in an empty gym as he falls to his knees from his over-used and abused legs, it's the look on his face when Hajime runs into the emergency room after getting a call about some game accident and seeing the expression on his face when someone tells Tōru he can never play again.

He takes him home and holds him close, saying it's because he needs it, rubs his back and calls him by his first name because he needs it, turns on an alien movie marathon without question.

Hajime thinks he knows pain.

Pain is loving someone you can't have, someone you shouldn't, someone who will never feel the same.

Pain is being separated from your other half for three years, knowing your absence doesn't affect them the way theirs affects you.

Pain is waiting for a toss from your setter only to realize they're not who you thought they were.

Pain is going to bed with tear stains running down your cheeks on some days when the hopelessness of your situation hits you.

Hajime thinks wrong.

Pain is watching the one you love in pain.

When his girlfriend comes to see him, he ignores her. She slaps him.

They’re over.

He feels liberated.

 

  
Hajime sees it as before and after. Before the fall and after.

He's not the same. His eyes sparkle just a little less. He says he's okay but it's so obvious he's not. Hajime is a sports medicine doctor, with the reason sitting across from him at the dinner table. And yet he isn't able to help him.

He's never felt more useless.

So Hajime may pull some strings.

Being a sports med doctor means he has connections. So maybe he talks to a few surgeons, speaks to a few specialists, chats up a couple of women in his office who work with ankle sprains and such. And maybe he then does extensive research and drives his boss insane with how little sleep he gets as he searches for the thing that he needs to make Oikawa smile again.

It's during dinner that he mentions it.

“So ... have you ever thought of surgery?”

“Aren't I beautiful enough, Iwa— Iwaizumi-kun?”

He hates the way he bites his lip to stop himself from calling him that nickname. Hajime has many regrets, the deepest one being forcing Oikawa to call him by last name.

“I meant for your leg.”

Oikawa pauses, barely swallowing his salad before he pulls his legs in closer to him, as though to inspect them. Through the years he's only grown more handsome, and more pretty. It's a fact; Oikawa Tōru is pretty. He sits with his legs crossed on his chair but now they're up to his chin and he's tilting his head.

“What's this about, Iwaizumi-kun?”

“I know a guy.”

And he watches as the light slowly returns in Oikawa's eyes and he sits up straighter and then it flickers, like he's scared of the idea because who hasn't heard of a surgery gone wrong? But he wants it, Hajime knows he wants it, knows he'll ignore all warnings and plunge in if it'll get him on the court again.

And then slowly he starts to smile. Truly, honestly smile.

It's blinding.

Against his will, Hajime feels a smile creeping up on him as well.

 

  
Watching Oikawa play is the most beautiful thing Hajime has ever seen. He jumps and does that killer serve and it’s been a while but his body remember exactly how to do it, executes it flawlessly and he’s twelve years old again.

He’s just learnt how to do it _just right_ and he’s giddy every time the ball touches his palm, his skin glowing red, stinging with the best kind of pain.

_He’s back._

And he starts to set to him and on lazy days they’ll practice late into the night until they can’t find the ball anymore, and he’s seventeen and so stupidly in love with the unattainable captain who everyone loves, but don’t know about the unironic love for Rick Astley and _Enlist in Starfleet_ poster at the foot of his bed.

Hajime’s never regretted his decision not to pursue volleyball professionally. It’s what it’s always been, a fun way to connect to Oikawa. Playing with him on the side, practicing, without a scoreboard, no points, just a toss especially for him, perfectly calculated like he was _meant_ to toss to him gives him the same rush as the crowded gymnasium with everyone cheering on the ace.

He doesn’t know who he’d be without Oikawa.

 

  
He's now Oikawa's personal on-court doctor. Whenever he plays, Hajime is there, watching, making sure he doesn't push himself too far. The coaches want to give him an expert, someone better with more experience than some childhood friend, but no one is an expert on Oikawa Tōru quite like Iwaizumi Hajime. No one knows his limits better than he does.

One day he hears the teammates talking. They're saying something about how Oikawa better not sprain his ankle during a romp with his doctor. And then Oikawa shakes his head and tells them they're wrong, he and Hajime aren't like that but then he looks down and suddenly everything Hajime has ever wanted is reflected in his eyes for a split second before it disappears and Oikawa goes back to teasing.

By the time Hajime's thirty-one, he's given up on love. That is, love with anyone other than Oikawa. He's accepted his fate, it's something he'll have to live with, it's something he _does_ live with.

And he supposes his only option now is to wait out the timer, wait till he's thirty-five and pray Oikawa isn't in a relationship.

On nights when he doubts things, he remembers that look, of longing and broken glass in Oikawa's eyes and he wonders if that's what he looks like when he looks at him. He wonders if Oikawa knows already. It hurts to think of how shattered he looked in that moment but it still pushes Hajime forward.

It's strange that such pain in his best friend's eyes gives him hope.

 

  
He starts looking for a new home in the US soon after his thirty-fourth birthday. If he's lucky, he and Tōru (oh it feels so good to call him that, even if he doesn't say it aloud) will move there and get married. It sure won't happen here in Japan with the way same sex marriage laws work. If he's unlucky, he'll move away and try to get over him.

Hajime chuckles to himself.

As if he hasn't been trying to do that since he was six.

It's 11:55, July 19th. Five minutes.

In five minutes time, his whole future will be determined by the one lying in his bed in the room across from his.

Surely if he didn't want him, he'd have moved out already. It's been over ten years. That has to mean something.

Or maybe he's reading too much into it?

11:56

_Calm down. You're freaking out too much._

But when has he ever been calm when it comes to Tōru?

Hajime stares at his suitcase.

Has he jumped the gun? Assuming something ahead of time? Maybe he's in over his head.

11:57

Rejection isn't the worst thing he's ever faced. He thinks. He's not sure. The worst thing he’s ever endured were those years when he and Tōru were like ships passing in the night. So no, rejection isn't the worst thing he's ever faced.

Unless Tōru decides he's disgusted in him (as he's suspected all along) and they never speak again.

11:58

Yeah, he might die.

Well, he's had a good run.

11:59

Hajime picks up his suitcase and the empty one.

12:00

“Oi, Trashkawa!”

He opens the door and throws the suitcase on the floor.

Tōru stares at him dumbly.

_Why does he have to be so cute?_

“Iwaizumi,” says Tōru. He sounds choked up. “Where … where are you going?”

“America.”

 _Don’t shake. Don’t quiver. You’ve got this. You’re stone-cold, you can handle it. He’s just Tōru, the guy you’ve been in love with for the majority of your life, even before you knew what love was. You can do this._ He can’t chicken out. Not now.

“Oh.”

Hajime kicks the empty suitcase towards Tōru and watches as his big brown eyes follow the movement. “Too lazy to pack all at once?” He’s smiling, but it’s not real. “Iwa-chan, you can’t slack off forever.”

 _Bullshit_. It’s utter bullshit that’s coming from his mouth and then Hajime realizes maybe he’s going about this the wrong way. Maybe he should be doing this differently. Does Tōru even remember? And yet he can’t help but want to smile at the sound of his old nickname.

“It’s not for me, it’s for you.”

Tōru stares. “What?”

“You’re thirty-five now, right?”

“Yes …?”

Oh God, he’s still giving him such a blank look. Thirty-five has always been a magical number to Hajime. Thirty-five is not an age, it’s his future and everything he’s ever wanted. Thirty-five is when his life begins, and here is Tōru, just not getting it. He hopes he looks calm because he’s freaking out right now.

“Then let’s get moving.”

“Let’s? What do you mean—”

“I’m in a relationship.”

Tōru’s eyes meet the ground and he won’t look at him. Why won’t he look at him? “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” It’s been years. Puberty is long over, Hajime has grown older, his voice cannot crack. It _cannot_. Part of him is desperately wishing they had made this agreement with a younger age in mind, like when they were twenty-one, that would’ve been nice, but there’s no point mourning over the past and now he has a very thick Tōru he has to get through to. “Very committed and I’m moving to the US.”

“How committed?”

“It’s been about … four years?” Does the promise still apply if he’s thirty-five, but in a relationship with Tōru? Nah, it’s been one-sided, because it’s not like there’s anyone else he can hand his heart to when it’s clutched so tightly (and unknowingly) in the burning red fist of a six year old with an alien obsession and a brand new serve that has him jumping around like he’s going off to space any second now.

“Now pack up, Shitkawa.”

“Why do I need to pack?”

“I can’t marry you here, now can I?” Hajime asks, rolling his eyes as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He’s sweating a lot, isn’t he? He’s totally turning into a sweaty sponge. What if he responds negatively?

“Marry me?” Tōru echoes.

It’s worse. It’s like he doesn’t even remember.

“We had a promise, didn’t we?” Hajime’s heart stops. He’s been waiting forever for this moment, ever since he was six really, and he’s been praying for a chance since he was at least sixteen, and he’s been living off of hope for the past four years so if he’s wrong— dear God don’t let him be wrong and he won’t ever ask for anything ever again. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

He’s not that big of a catch, why would someone like Tōru want him? He’s grumpy, he’s disagreeable, he was in a relationship with a girl for almost ten years filled with nothing, he doesn’t know how to love someone properly, Tōru can have anyone, why would he—

“No, I …” Hajime really wants to hit Tōru. Because he can’t just say “No” while he’s having a freak out, a miniature inner monologue, as if answering and quelling all the worries in his heart and then leave him hanging as he tries to think up the rest of his sentence. “But you’re in a relationship, you’re committed—”

The moment of truth is upon him and suddenly Hajime thinks he should be more worried than he is but the words slip out easily, like they’ve finally escaped their decades old prison cell.

“To you.”

The look in Tōru’s eyes is akin to that look Hajime first saw when Tōru first saw a volleyball match, to when he first managed to get that jump serve _just_ right, to when he was finally able to play again after so long.

“Pack up. We’re getting married.”

No, it’s better.


End file.
